"Oh gosh!" Monet excimed, dropping the weapon in her hand to the ground she lunged forward and towards the crumpled man.

  "I put out the offering you all didn't pick up!" The man shouted, cowering back away. When Monet reached her hand towards him he flinched, freezing up.

  "I'm so sorry, I thought you were a Cress!" Monet excimed, shuffling down to kneel beside him. Though she had nervously shut his eyes.

  "Cress....?" the man murmured, curiosity getting the better of him he turned his head ever so slightly and peaked one eye open to look at her.

  Loud stomping blew over their conversation as Dern shot up the stairs and nearly tackled them both. Skidding to a stop he held a bat in hand, nearly raising it to strike, then he paused. "Monet?" Dern stammered.

  Suddenly the stranger colpsed, falling backwards and ying against the floor.

  "Are you okay!?" Dern and Monet shouted at once, talking to each other.

  Blinking briefly they both let out a chuckle of relief "I'm gd you're okay." they both said, Monet nearly cutting him off as they both spoke simultaneously once again.

  Then Monet looked back down to the man, his shoulder length hair was wildly fluffed out around his sharp face. Once again he sheepishly opened an eye, trying to steal a gnce of his surroundings unnoticed.

  Monet perked up, immediately noticing him. She waved quickly, an awkward smile on her face.

  "Y-You're not with the Sun Guards, are you?" he asked, voice hoarse but soft spoken.

  "No," Dern shook his head "We're on the way to the military camp downtown." he expined, now tapping the bat aimlessly against his leg. Then he startled, stepping forward and offering the blonde man a hand.

  He stammered "Thank you," as Dern helped heft him up. "Hello." he awkwardly greeted.

  Monet stepped back to stand closer to Dern, rubbing at the back of her head nervously she gave another quick apology before her gaze trailed to the room behind him.

  It was a bit difficult to do however. The man before her was extremely tall, over six feet she knew as he towered over both her and Dern. Thin as a rail and wearing decently kept clothes, a yellow button down and brown khakis, his skin was paler than his sunkissed hair.

  Behind him the apartment almost looked normal from what she could see, as if the apocalypse didn't destroy the city around them. A simple, minimalist home, basic furniture without much decor it was a bit cold, almost like a staged house for showing, cking personality but very functional, and clean.

  Dern looked between them, the stranger nervously looking at his shoes, picking at the skin around his fingernails, while Monet was bobbing her head back and forth to look around. It was clear neither was going to speak, too engrossed in their own thoughts to drive forward.

  So Dern decided to. He waved, not wanting to reach out and touch either of them he got their attention that way, which worked. The man and Monet straightened their spines and stood upright.

  Dern chuckled, despite being so different, the stranger nky and pale with Monet being shorter with a deep golden tan, they reacted the same. He pointed towards the stairs, smiling, "Should we go to the others?" Dern asked.

  "Others?" The tall man parroted, nervously.

  Monet noticed him tense, saw the tell tale signs of someone about to bolt, so Monet gently grabbed his forearm, startling him. His anxious grimace met her smile and he was suddenly being led down the stairs.

  They helped him through the mostly barricaded front entrance only to turn their heads and immediately were met by Ember's scowl.

  Monet jumped. Ember pointed her blunted pipe weapon towards the stranger and made a variety of exaggerated expressions and gestures. Met only with Monet's befuddled smile.

  "Hi Ember." Monet excimed without thought.

  Ember sighed.

  "Um, hello." greet the stranger, who was even taller than Ember.

  "Fuck it," she waved them to follow and she strolled into the room with the most conscious companions, in the what used to be the kitchen living space. The broken down walls and mispced furniture gave an open space for them all to linger about.

  "Dern-" Bernadina went to step forward but paused at the sight of the man beside her boyfriend.

  The stranger had paled, almost looking sick. Too nervous from having so many eyes suddenly on him.

  "Who is this?"

  "Who the fuck is that?"

  "Another mouth to feed."

  "Where did you even go?"

  The sudden cacophony of noise and questions was too much and the stranger suddenly lurched forward, snatching at the semi full trash bin and vomiting into it, it caused everyone to quiet and stare in a mix of disgust and bewilderment.

  “Sorry!” the man excimed. Coughing. He was heaving but trying to wave them off casually.

  “Monet!” Charlene says, appearing as she stormed into the room from the commotion, she quickly checks her over, looking for marks or injury, brows knit together “Who, what, why-” she starts and stops before Monet shouts.

  “Okay!” she snapped, cutting off everyone and bringing the room into silence. Monet let out a deep breath, gently sliding her hands across the air in a calming gesture. She then looks at the tall stranger, his face still pale and bruised. “I met him upstairs, he seems nice.” she then looks back at the group “He lives here.” she adds simply, then looks at the man, encouraging him to introduce himself.

  He stammers “UM,” clearing his throat, coughing again, hands shaking with nerves. He spoke “I'm Waylon, um, Waylon Beck. I am, uh, was, an accountant for Ridgelife w firm.” he replies shakily.

  “You lived here? Why didn't you leave? You're so close to the military camp!” Phil shouted, getting offended for some reason, which startled Waylon, who began blubbering.

  “I-I-I Don't know!” Waylon excims “I-I work from home, I-I-I, I never leave here!” he tried to excuse, face screwing in discomfort, looking like he was about to flee.

  “What even happened?” Bernadina asks, looking between Monet and Dern.

  “I heard a noise upstairs and found him.” Monet simply replied.

  “Why'd you bring him here?” Phil asked.

  “I thought he'd come with us.” Monet shrugged.

  “What?” Phil snapped.

  “What?” Waylon parroted.

  “Fucking hells.” Ember sighs in frustration, and disbelief.

  Monet wears a nervous smile, hands fidgeting together. She looked at Charlene, like she needed help, bending her brow awkwardly.

  “I'm fine, honestly, thank yo-” Waylon starts but he was quickly shut down as Phil quickly spoke over him “What were you thinking?” he shouted over him, gring at Monet.

  “I thought we could help-” “Our group is already too rge.”

  “We have a bus for Jaktu's sake, plenty of room.” Monet drops her arms, letting her hand sp against her thigh “He can drive with us, it's only a few hours. What's the problem?” she scoffs.

  “Drive?” Waylon asks, a look of dread on his face.

  Ember shakes her head, frustrated, “Whatever.” she finally says “Fucking welcome aboard I guess.” dropping her arms she goes to push past Monet “I'll finish boarding the door, keep you from finding more strays.” she grumbles, storming off towards the hallway. Jake gives Waylon and Monet a slightly apologetic smile, brows raised and smile wavering.

  “Nice to meet you, man.” he says with a nod of acknowledgment to Waylon.

  Phil simply points at Waylon with a deep gre, voice a harsh command “Stay away from my family.” before storming off, going to meet back with his wife and children.

  Waylon stammered, awkward and heart racing. Tucking his wavy hair behind his short pointed ears, showing Elven heritage. He looks down at Monet, who stands beside him, looking for answers or hopeful reassurance.

  Monet smiled weakly at him, patting his arm. Then she gently led him forward towards the lines of couches, giving him a comfortable pce to sit.

  Charlene follows, now the couple of Dern and Bernadina, herself, Monet, Sani, and the newcomer Waylon settle into the lumpy furniture. Waylon, despite his tall height and long limbs, makes himself small on the couch, preparing for the onsught of questions he knew was coming.

  Bernadina remains standing but Dern flops down, sitting beside Monet. Waylon smiles, but he looks like a kid sitting outside of the principal's office. Dern doesn't seem to notice the underlying tension and remains casual, gncing between the smaller group with a warm smile.

  “So,” Charlene exhales, drawing everyone's attention “Why didn't you leave again?” she asks.

  “I'm a homebody,” Waylon says, not wanting to admit he was just too scared to leave his home, even before the infection he rarely left the safety of his home.

  “How did you manage?” Dern asked, cocking his head curiously.

  “The, uh, the Sun Guards used the apartment complex for a while, they, they, left a few days ago and I haven't seen them come back. I gave them some of my food, water, what I could and they would protect the building.” Waylon admits, brow knit together.

  “Like a mob? Pay for protection?” Charlene asks, leaning back on the couch to get more comfortable. She gnces between the group with a casual curiosity “Like in the movies?” she added, shrugging.

  “How'd the city turn to shit so fast?” Dern sighed, crossing his arms as his shoulders slumped, pouting.

  “The city was always like this. Now people don't have to worry about consequences.” Bernadina snapped, feeling her chest tighten as her old bottled emotions bubbled to the surface. Gring, dredging up old memories she wishes she didn't remember.

  “I think pnt infected zombies are a pretty big consequence.” Charlene remarked with a slight hint of sarcasm.

  “That was Ysyvanor, we didn't do anything to deserve this.” Sani snapped, his balled fist hitting against the arm chair he was sitting on, his foot tapped, his erratic behavior a clear contrast as he bit at his nails.

  “I've heard the Sun Guard's mention that before, they really didn't seem to like Ysyvanorian's, why were they bming them for this?” Waylon asks, head lowered but he gnced around at the group, he wasn't sure he would be allowed to speak, but he chanced it and was relieved when he wasn't immediately shot down.

  “Sani?” Monet called, looking away from Waylon to look at him.

  “What?”

  “You worked with the tree right? Something like that?” Monet asked, still nervous speaking to Sani but she wanted to know, her curiosity overcoming her anxiety.

  Sani sighs. His heavily bagged eyes and disheveled appearance as he picked at his loose, torn, tie, was a stark contrast to his normal put together self. He, like the rest of them, looked drained and defeated. However Sani's expression didn't hold the small kindling of hope the Monet's did. Just a bnk, almost angry, stare. “Fine,” he exhaled deeply, clearing his throat dryly. “I was the go between, an ambassador of sorts. I worked with my company and the Empress to discuss the use of the tree's wood, that's why I know it's their fault, they sent us a shipment and it was like nothing we ever saw, it looked fine at first, then it decayed, so quickly, the wood turned white and fell apart like ash.” his voice growled lowly, shifting in his seat as his hand gestured vaguely, the other holding up his head by his cheek. “We told them to figure out what was wrong with the roots but they didn't want to cut into the damned thing. The Empress is at fault, she put a fucking tree over her people, religious or not it's a fucking tree. They just ignored the problem and prayed when they should have stopped whatever disease this is before it mutated to affect Veriyns.” his voice ended in a low bitter snap, his nose twitching trying to hide his sneer.

  “Turned to ash?” Monet asked, leaning closer.

  “Why didn't the Empress do anything?” Dern asks, he looked up at Bernadina as if she had the answer, his expression lost and questioning but she couldn't reply, simply giving a small apologetic shrug as she shook her head lightly.

  “If Jaktu was on the pnet would you want to cut into him? That tree is the body of their Goddess, remember? Not to mention how tall it is.” Bernadina interjected, trying to give some sort of reply, for Dern's sake.

  “It's completely different.” Sani snapped, smming his fist down onto the arm of the chair.

  “Is it?” Charlene interjected.

  “Oh shut up.” Sani rolled his eyes.

  Charlene balked, mouth opening and closing but she couldn't think of a reply, they all shared gnces, Charlene looking to Monet for back up. Monet was about to stand up and blubber some sort of defense when a cutting yowling overcame their heated conversation.

  The guttural cry of the infected wool cat echoed through the city again, shutting them all up. A collective chill ran down the spines of the survivors, the sound reminding them of the darkness that's overcome their city, that there was the possibility of their zombified neighbors lurking right outside the apartment, waiting to devour them.

  A second howl, a quieter one, but still it was unrelenting. The tone in it was angry but almost curious, like a searching chirp of a house cat.

  Ember and Jake suddenly dashed back into the room, looking over the group to ensure they were fine. Jake sighed in relief, the sound being distant, but still he was on edge. He likely wasn't going to rest well.

  The uneasy feeling that filled the room was palpable, the tension unsteady and filled with the buzz of underlying anxiety. A general worry.

  “We should get to sleep.” Monet says, breaking the silence that built up “Tomorrow can't come fast enough, I can't wait to get evacuated already.” she forced a sheepish giggle, trying to be a bit of levity to the room. Monet gnced at Waylon and patted the couch below her “This couch is the longest one.” she remarked, wearing a faint smile.

  Waylon chuckled lightly, matching her grin with a nervous one of his own. “You know my apartment is right upstairs, I can go to sleep there.” he replied.

  Ember sputtered, shaking her head before she looked at the two of them. “Already blocked the door, touch it and I beat you.” Ember said jokingly as she points towards him, her voice warm and with a sly smirk but Waylon flushed, nodding in agreement with her.

  “I'll get you some bnkets.” Monet offered as she began to stand.

  Charlene nodded at her in approval before she too moved to leave, she walked back towards the bedroom she id Creed out in. She moved quickly across the short distance to one of the few intact rooms and saw Creed with wide eyes, he looked like he just woke up, most likely from the Woolcat's call.

  He was quietly talking to Phil and Debra, getting caught up on the Waylon situation. The Day children were huddled against their father while Debra gently stroked Bill's hair.

  Creed's eyes lit up at the sight of Charlene, she gnced to the side and saw Ewell, still curled in the corner, unresponsive. She sat on the bed beside him. Her hand falling to his arm quickly.

  “Love,” she greeted, “We're leaving first thing tomorrow.” she said.

  Creed nodded. He felt like at her side everything would be okay.

  Charlene shifted on her side, ying beside him as she began to join the conversation with the Day parents, clinging to the hope of evacuation tomorrow.The night began to bnket the city, and the survivors attempted to settle into what they hoped would be their final restless sleep in this nightmare.